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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28877913">May the odds be ever in your favor</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/writteninbechloe/pseuds/writteninbechloe'>writteninbechloe</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Pitch Perfect (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, F/F</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:28:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,436</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28877913</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/writteninbechloe/pseuds/writteninbechloe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Beca volunteered in her sister's place, knowing that she had to at least try to keep herself alive long enough to win, but she has little skill to rely on.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell, Emily Junk &amp; Beca Mitchell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I volunteer.” The words slip off her tongue before she's even given it a second thought. </p><p>The frightened look on her sister's face is all it took to convince Beca to hand herself in, to basically sign her own death license.</p><p>It could be the adrenaline racing through her veins, Beca's general recklessness and lack of regard for authority, or the sisterly instincts kicking in and causing her to feel the need to protect her sister at all costs. She'd do anything for her sister - even die for her. </p><p>An hour ago, Beca thought that hearing her own name ring through the air was the most frightening thing that could have happened. But now, as everyone looked around for Elsie Mitchell, awaiting her arrival on the makeshift stage, Beca knows she was wrong. The way her sister froze in place as her name was called, and the ghostly expression on her face - <em>that</em> was the most terrifying thing.</p><p>The thought of her sister going into the 'game' and never coming back stabbed her right in the chest. She wasn't going to let that happen. </p><p>She's trapped between two peacekeepers as soon as she jumps towards her sister. They grip onto her arms and hold her back as she attempts to thrash forward. The entire district stands frozen in place, watching the scene play out. </p><p>Not once in Beca's lifetime has anyone from their district ever volunteered, to her knowledge no one had. No one had won either, except one, and that was twenty four years ago. District 12 haven't had a win for twenty four years so there's very little hope for her. </p><p>“I volunteer.” She repeats, shouting louder this time, forcing herself to sound more confident, even though she's fucking terrified. “I volunteer as tribute.”</p><p>At her words, the grips on her arms are released, allowing her to step between the peacekeepers. Beca notices everyone's gazes on her as she pushes past the men in their white suits and helmets. </p><p>She's quite small, which is why she attempts to straighten her stance to come across as stronger and more confident than she actually is. It's something her Dad taught her - <em>'Stand tall, and don't let anyone see through you.'</em></p><p>She wishes more than anything that she got to say goodbye to her dad. At least she gets to say goodbye to her sister, even if it is while the peacekeepers are holding her back. </p><p>“I believe we have a volunteer.” A voice echos around her. Beca looks up at the woman on stage with the big hair and extreme makeup. </p><p>The peacekeepers step to the side so Beca takes her chance and rushes towards her sister, pulling the crying girl into a hug. “Elsie, it's okay.”</p><p>Beca can feel the gut wrenching sob exploding from Elsie's chest and the tears soaking the material of her dress as her sister grips onto her. She runs her fingers through her hair before pulling back. “You need to get out of here, squirt. Go find Mom.”</p><p>“No,” Elsie cries, gripping onto Beca tighter as she sheds tears into her shoulder. “No, Bec.”</p><p>“I'm sorry,” Beca murmurs, then presses a kiss to her sister's head. “I love you so much Elsie. Go find Mom, okay?” She reaches for Elsie's chin and tilts it upwards so she can look into her eyes and take in the sight of her sister, knowing it is more than likely that she'll never see her again. </p><p>Elsie's cries stab Beca in the chest over and over again as she pulls away and walks in the other direction. She can't bring herself to look back, knowing that her sister will be being held back by peacekeepers. </p><p>“District twelve's very first volunteer.” The woman smiles widely at her, and she looks...happy? Her voice is loud and chirpy, filling the air with unwelcomed warmth. “Come on, dear.” She smiles down at Beca, encouraging her to walk up the few steps and onto the platform beside her. </p><p>The smile is constantly plastered on her face but Beca catches the slightly sympathetic look she gives her. “So, what's your name?”</p><p>The blonde woman gestures to the microphone in front of them but Beca doesn't step towards it. “Beca Mitchell,” She says. </p><p>“Well, I'll be damned. Was that your sister?”</p><p>“Yes.” Beca can hear how croaky her own voice is but does nothing about it. She's too busy avoiding every pair of eyes on her. </p><p>The woman clasps her hands together then steps toward the microphone. “Let's all congratulate our very first volunteer. Beca Mitchell.”</p><p>The silence that follows fills her with dread. She knows this is the last time she will ever see anyone from her district, and she knows that everyone else is thinking that too. District 12 never wins. Beca is no different. </p><p>Only the woman beside her starts to clap, but stops when everyone collectively lifts their right hand into the air, bringing it to their lips before saluting with three fingers. It's their way of showing their admiration towards her bravery. But Beca isn't stupid, she knows it's also a goodbye. </p><p>“And now, the boys.”</p><p>Her legs are shaking beneath her, but she mustn't let it show. She can't let everyone see how scared she is - she can't let them portray that as weakness. She scans the crowd until her eyes land on her Mom. She has her arm around Elsie, who has her head on her chest. </p><p>
  <em>At least they're safe. </em>
</p><p>Beca watches the woman slowly lower her hand into the extra large glass bowl. Her finger curls around one folded card and she pulls it out, making a point of clearing her throat while opening the paper. </p><p>“Jesse Swanson.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Saying goodbye to her mother and sister for the last time hurt her more than she thought it would. It was every ounce of pain she’s ever experienced combined, then increased even more. She didn’t think it was possible for her to ache so much for someone who was still alive. But the excruciating hollowness inside her right now proves her previous thoughts so wrong. She aches for her family back. But she also aches for herself - for the life she’ll never get to have. The life that’ll end as soon as she steps foot into the arena.</p>
<p>Her sister’s sobs are still ringing in her ears and her mother’s cries for her to win, to try and come back home to them is playing on a loop in her head as she relaxes back into the couch. </p>
<p>It’s the comfiest couch she’s ever sat on, but her head is too much of a mess for her to properly enjoy it. Jesse sits across from her, surrounded by the drastic amount of food supplied to them. He hasn’t touched any of it either, and if it were any other situation Beca would make a joke about how the food wouldn’t bite him, but she can’t even voice the words. </p>
<p>They sit in silence with the blonde woman - who introduced herself as Gail Abernathy-McKadden-Fienberger just before getting on the train. Gail is sitting at a table across the carriage from them but her presence and bubbly persona is enough to make Beca feel uneasy. She finds herself staring out of the window, silently saying goodbye to her home.</p>
<p>It never felt like <em>home</em> to Beca. She hated it there. The people are selfish and rude, although that might just be because they’re starving. And turning against each other is their only way of releasing the pent up frustration they feel towards the capital and the other districts that are better off than them. They would look down on her (<em>as if they’re any better</em>) because of the things she would do to survive. <br/><br/>The days would pass by in a blur, the same boring shit everyday, and Beca was starting to grow sick of it. She had dreams of leaving, of getting out. Her overwhelming desire to run away was growing stronger each day, and if it wasn’t for her mother and sister she would be long gone by now. The dark forests might be the only thing Beca will miss from district 12, other than her sister of course. </p>
<p>“John will be here in a minute.” The older woman says, snapping Beca out of her daze with the reminder that their mentor, John Smith, is meant to be joining them. He is the only living Hunger Games victor from District 12, so Beca hopes he will at the very least be able to offer up some helpful tips, like how not to die within the first hour of the games. </p>
<p>Beca just nods at the blonde, and changes position so she’s now sitting slightly forwards with her elbows resting on her knees. Jesse leans forward and reaches for a bread roll and whatever cake was on the plate. There is more food on the table than Beca has ever seen at one time but the thought of eating makes her stomach churn. </p>
<p>She didn’t know Jesse that well before the reaping, she just knew of him enough to know that he’s the same age as her and that his father used to work with Beca’s father. But Jesse’s father wasn’t on shift when the coal mine blew up, and Beca can’t deny that she was jealous of him. His Dad is still alive - Jesse had the chance to say goodbye to his father, he doesn't know how lucky he is. </p>
<p>Neither one has spoken much since the reaping, only introducing themselves after finding their respective seats on the train, but she knows enough about him to know she doesn’t like him.</p>
<p>“You know, Beca.” Jesse starts in a whisper, but Beca refuses to meet his gaze, knowing his eyes will be full of self pity and she won’t allow herself to get sucked in. “He did win this once upon a time. He might be able to help us.”</p>
<p><em>Yeah right,</em> Beca thinks. There is no way anyone’s advice will be able to help them. They’re doomed - or perhaps destined - to die. </p>
<p>Beca’s lack of response seems to shut the other brunette up, and she is instantly relieved that he doesn't start talking again. She hasn’t known him long and he's already reached the highest point on her scale of annoyance. Perhaps it’s because she’s seriously stressed out right now, or maybe he’s just a really annoying person. </p>
<p>The next couple of minutes Beca spends dwelling on every moment in her life that has prepared her for this. There was that one time last year when her sister was being picked on by some boys in her class and she witnessed them shoving her to the floor, so Beca ran over to one and punched him square in the face before running away. She had proceeded to climb a tree after they began to chase her, and she stayed up their until they gave up waiting her out. She used to steal from the market, but not for her pleasure, she did it because she had to. She’d steal bread rolls for her mother and sister, frequently forfeiting her rations to prevent her sister from going hungry.</p>
<p>It's not like she has any actual chance at winning this thing. She hasn't been trained since she was young like district 1 or 2 and she has very little skill. Sure, she can shoot, and she's pretty fast, but there is no way she's going to survive out there. </p>
<p>Thinking back to then, before the reaping, before she essentially signed her death sentence, fills her with emotion that she can’t quite pinpoint. She knows she’s angry - <em>fucking pissed</em> - but there’s also something more. Beca has never been one to put much thought into her feelings, simply pushing them further down each time they attempt to make their way to the surface, which is why she struggles to decipher which emotions she’s currently feeling. <br/><br/>Perhaps shame? Maybe if she was <em>better</em> then she could win this thing and get a better life for her and her family. No, apprehension. She can’t help but dread the things she’ll witness or the things she’ll do to stay alive. She can’t imagine killing someone, and she doesn’t want to, but she knows it’s bound to happen. Kill or be killed, right?</p>
<p>She’s also...scared. Scratch that, she’s fucking terrified. </p>
<p>Her spiralling thoughts come to an end as the door to their carriage opens and a man dressed in a navy blue suit walks in. She can practically smell the whiskey on him as soon as he nears. Beca rolls her eyes,<em> ‘Great. Our mentor is a drunk.’</em></p>
<p>He doesn’t look up at them when he greets them, “You must be Jesse and Beca. I guess congratulations are in order.”</p>
<p>She snorts at his words before she can stop herself, fortunately he misses it entirely as he doesn’t even look up to acknowledge them. “Congratulations.” She mumbles to herself, raising a brow as she speaks. The word doesn't sit right on her tongue and it leaves her with a bitter taste. </p>
<p>Beca doesn't understand what they are being congratulated for, it's not like they did something incredible, they were chosen - in Jesse's case - out of hundreds of people to be thrown into an arena to die. There is nothing great about that. She doesn't get how everyone can see that as something to be proud of, and how is she supposed to respond? By thanking them? “So, do you have any advice for us?” She says instead, choosing to keep her thoughts to herself. </p>
<p>“How do we find shelter? Food?” Jesse asks.</p>
<p>Beca rolls her eyes for what must be the hundredth time since the reaping. Is Jesse seriously that much of an idiot that he hasn’t realised they’ll probably be dead within the first few hours if they can’t protect themselves? They won’t need shelter or food if they’re dead, they need to know how to avoid the first few kills. The other tributes are bound to panic, their only focus on killing to stay alive, so if they can get through that they’ll have a better shot at staying alive for longer. Although there’s not much point in that, they’re going to die anyway. Why drag out the inevitable?</p>
<p>“Is that the only thing you think about? Your stomach?” </p>
<p>“We’re going to need food, Beca.” Jesse says. </p>
<p>Beca sighs. “Dude, you have to hunt.”</p>
<p>The wide-eyed expression that settles on Jesse’s face makes Beca almost want to laugh. He is clearly completely clueless which confirms Beca’s suspicion that Jesse will be useless in the arena. At least she can run fast, but what skills does Jesse have?</p>
<p>Only now does their mentor finally glance up at them. He looks at them blankly with his brows furrowed. “So you want advice?” Jesse nods, while Beca continues to glare at them both. “Hm.” He ponders for a moment then says, “Don't get killed.” </p>
<p>“Okay.” She nods as she bites back a sarcastic remark. “But how do we do that?”</p>
<p>“Well you're a woman, so probably smile and look cute. Make people like you.”</p>
<p>“Okay. I think that's enough of the misogyny.” Gail says before clasping her hands together and standing up. She strides over to the three of them, coming to a halt behind John and sets her hands on his shoulders.</p>
<p>“You're our mentor." Beca’s tone is full of spite, and she doesn’t even try to rein in her glare. "Maybe you could, y’know, mentor us?”</p>
<p>Beca looks up and catches Gail’s wide eyes. She hears the other tribute gasp then cough, but John’s response is by far the most absurd. He chuckles slowly, almost mockingly, as if finding their situation humorous.</p>
<p>“Well, Rebecca,”John starts, already annoying Beca by the use of her full name. “I am a victor after all, I think I know how to win.”</p>
<p>The small brunette quirks a brow, “So you smiled and looked cute to get yourself to the top?”</p>
<p>She catches the blonde’s gaze again and Beca acknowledges the small smile tugging at her lips. Gail blinks suddenly, her false lashes flickering, “Rebecca is right.” She winks down at her. </p>
<p>“It’s Beca.” She corrects. </p>
<p>Her comment goes ignored by both older members in the carriage, and Gail continues. “You <em>are</em> their mentor, John. How about I leave the three of you so you can all get to know each other?”</p>
<p>That receives another roll of her eyes from the small brunette. Getting to know each other seems pointless. According to Gail they only have four days until they enter the arena - four days until her inevitable death. So why would she want to spend her last four days alive with a misogynist and a guy that doesn’t know when to shut the hell up? Maybe they should just kill her now and save her from the torture. </p>
<p>Neither Beca or Jesse offer a response so Gail takes that as her cue to leave. Her painted lips form a smile and she nods quickly. Beca watches her walk out of the door behind them and into the next carriage. She slowly turns her head back to John and Jesse to find them both enjoying some kind of baked good, both clearly more relaxed than her. </p>
<p>“Do you know anything about the other tributes?” Beca asks after the silence has gone on for too long. If they aren’t going to talk about surviving then surely intel on the other tributes will be useful. </p>
<p>John sips on his coffee. “We’ll get to that when we get to the capital.” He says, quickly brushing her off. </p>
<p>His vague replies and lack of care is starting to get on her nerves. “So are we just going to sit here, eat a shit ton of fancy food and pretend like we aren’t going to die in a few days?” She quirks an eyebrow, adding to the scowl on her face. </p>
<p>Beca ignores the way Jesse’s head snaps up to stare at her with wide eyes. Her gaze is on John, she watches as he leans forward for his mug, picks it up and takes a swig. The slight grimace on his face after tells her that his mug isn’t filled with coffee. His eyes flicker up to meet Beca’s and he forces a smile.</p>
<p>“That attitude will not help you make people like you.” He states. </p>
<p>She really couldn’t care less if people liked her. She would argue that she isn’t here to please people, but technically that’s exactly why she’s here. Entertaining the capital is essentially the entire purpose of the hunger games. But she’s stubborn as hell. “Why does it matter if people like me?” She scoffs. </p>
<p>“Sweetheart, if you want to stay alive you need sponsors, and to get them you need people to like you, to be rooting for you. And with an attitude like that, I wouldn’t say you’re off to a good start.” John stands up from his chair and excuses himself to ‘freshen up the downtown’ which leaves Beca with unwanted disgusting imagery. </p>
<p>Beca has never been very good at getting people to like her, back in her district people avoided her and she didn’t have anyone that she'd call a friend. She hunted alone. She didn't need anyone else, and she definitely doesn't need anyone now. </p>
<p>“Maybe I could teach you how to be nice?” Jesse offers innocently. <br/><br/>“Sure.” Beca nods, “But you should probably sack the fuck up, toughen up or whatever. You don’t want to be the first to die.” She stands up, and spins on her heels, quickly walking away from Jesse and out of the carriage to put her skills to good use.</p>
<p>The second to last carriage is where she finally stops, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the drinks cart by the door. She allows her eyes to flicker over the small collection before selecting the most expensive looking bottle, that happens to be unopened. </p>
<p>She pops off the cap and tilts the bottle, pouring the liquid into a glass (also expensive looking). </p>
<p>“If he’s going to be a dick then I’m gonna drink his stash.” She says, then lifts the glass and lets the bourbon coat her lips. </p>
<p>Beca needs to figure out a plan, because when it comes down to it the only person looking out for her is herself. She can't trust anyone else, not even Jesse. But for now, she’s going to drink John’s alcohol and pretend like she isn’t counting down the minutes until her death. </p>
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